Distractions
by Hitoshi-chan
Summary: Distractions were weaknesses, and Mello couldn’t afford to have any weaknesses. One shot, Matt and Mello.


**A****uthor's Notes:**

Hey everyone, It's been a while since I posted anything. I started this a while back, and found it a few weeks ago, so I decided I would post it today for Fullmetal Tora's B-day. This fic is dedicated to you Tora though it's not exactly a happy one…er…sorry bout that. Love you so much! Happy Birthday!

For any fans of Unbreakable, I apologize for the delay, and assure you we will be updating very soon.

Reviews are greatly appreciated!

_Disclaimer: If I owned Death Note, the female characters wouldn't suck._

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Mello was bored.

There was absolutely nothing to do. There were no new leads on Kira or Near, and all of the old ones had finally gone cold. There was no one in need of torture, or blackmail, and not even one hit to carry out. Any dealings that had to be done would be taken care of by lower ranked members of the family, and Mello found himself at an absolute loss.

The irritable blonde lay sprawled on one of the many black leather couches that adorned his current base, legs and arms spread wide as if to deter anyone who even considered sitting next to him.

It was hot. Disgustingly so, and the mafia leader found himself in a foul mood. The sweltering heat of the day did nothing to help his already lethargic and irritated mood, and a scowl made its way onto his pale features. The back of his head rested on the arm of the couch sending golden strands of hair spilling over the worn sofa arm. He shifted slightly every few minutes, only to viciously snap a piece off of the quickly melting chocolate bar in his grasp, before returning to his former position.

The ventilation in the abandoned warehouse was poor, and as he shifted once again to gain access to his sweet addiction, he couldn't help but cringe in disgust at the sickening squelching sound his skin made as it pulled itself away from the leather, sticky with sweat. The snap of the chocolate was also not to his satisfaction as instead of the usual hard snap, his teeth made a quietly pathetic squish. Glowering, he pushed himself up into a sitting position, determined to find something productive to do. The blonde gracelessly shoved the rest of the liquefying chocolate into his mouth, taking care to lick each of his brown stained fingers clean before discarding the candy wrapper in a nearby trashcan.

He was sick of being idle, and was itching for something to do. Sitting still had never been something he was very good at, and with every inactive wasted minute he became more and more agitated.

Near, he knew, wasn't sitting around doing nothing. Neither was Kira. This fact taunted him almost as much as seeing Near himself. That Near was winning, even when he wasn't there. The thought wound itself around his chest, a pasty white finger ensnaring one pallid curl. It buried itself in his brain eating away at him, screaming at him. A voice resonating through his head unbidden _Always second place Always, Always, Always. _ Until he could take no more, and it forced him to his feet.

Scanning his surroundings contemptuously, he searched for something to do, anything at all. Finding nothing that needed to be done, he finally settled on investigating what his men were up to. It was something to at least take his mind off of his Near infested thoughts.

He knew that his men were being just as productive as him, but figured perhaps one of them might have found something somewhat entertaining to occupy their time. Or at least something that would give the leather clad mafia boss something to yell about and release his swiftly building pent up rage.

Scanning his men, his curiosity was peaked when his sharp gaze fell onto one of the newer members sitting in a wooden chair in the corner. Mello recognized him as a lower ranked member, who had never done anything to garner Mello's attention. The name Rick Morrison came to mind. Rick was an altogether average looking man, with nothing about him that really stood out. What had caught Mello's attention was not Rick, but the small crowd that was slowly forming around him. Three other members stood behind Rick's chair, their attention captured by something in Rick's hand.

If he'd wanted to think about something other than Near, he had found the one subject that topped even Near on his list of _Things not to think about_.

Mello didn't have to see what was in Rick's hands to know what it was. He only had to watch the intensity and play of emotions that ran across Rick's face, joy, anxiety, frustration. He only had to watch the gazes of the ones behind him, their eyes jumping back and forth in synch with one another. He only had to remember the same expressions, same sporadic eye movement, same occupied disposition that had caused him time and time again to go into manic rages about a stupid piece of plastic being a complete and utter waste of a sometimes brilliant mind.

Mello was no longer bored. The heat and former lethargy lay long forgotten.

The furious blonde strode up to Rick in a way that made the three men behind him take a few steps back in fear. Rick himself was unaware of the foreboding presence until his game was snatched painfully out of his hands. He opened his mouth to angrily protest but shut up the minute he saw who it was that had taken the DS from him. His mouth clamped shut and his nails dug nervously into his now sweating palms. His eyes lowered to the floor and he searched his mind frantically for something he had done wrong.

Mello snarled at the cowering form.

"Do you know what this is?" he demanded of the frightened man before him.

He had everyone's attention now, he could feel it. It wasn't as though his men had never seen him angry before, it was just that no one could figure out just what had set the blonde off. He had been fine, well fine as was in his nature until a minute ago, and nobody had bothered him, no calls had come in, and no one had touched his chocolate. Mello was being irrational, but he couldn't care less.

"A DS sir." Rick responded sounding utterly pathetic.

Sparing the device in has hand one disgusted look, Mello saw in the bright blinking screen a reflection. However, instead of his own cerulean irises, lazy green eyes stared back, daring him to look away. He felt a new wave of resentment pump through his blood, and the nauseating taste of bile rose in the back of his throat.

Without a second thought, he threw the still blinking electronic as hard as he could against the closest wall. He watched in grim satisfaction as it shattered on contact with the stone wall. Shattered into a thousand little pieces that he knew nobody would be able to put together again. It was broken and nobody could fix it, nobody would dare try. This knowledge put him at ease, and he found his blood cooling, and his anger fading.

Finally he turned back to the terrified Rick.

"It's a distraction, and distractions are weaknesses."

He glared a moment more before turning on his heel, and heading to the closest computer. He threw a sharp 'clean it up' over his shoulder that had Rick scrambling over himself to appease the angry mafia leader.

Pulling up a chair, Mello began a search on Kira's most recent victims, looking once more for a clue of any kind.

He would bring Kira to justice, and he _would_ beat Near. No matter what it took, and he didn't have time to be screwing around doing nothing. Nor did he have time, and he glanced at Rick still frantically picking up the shards of the broken handheld, to try to fix things better left broken.

No, he didn't have time for weakness, didn't have time to be distracted.

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_Hope everyone enjoyed._


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